


Wrathion's Wager

by WondrousWendy, Zath



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Anduin just wants to have fun and try new things, Dating, Established Relationship, Fade to Black, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, We interpreted Jihui as like a more basic version of a Civilization game, World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria, Wranduin - Freeform, Wranduin Week 2020, and Wrathion is more than happy to oblige
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WondrousWendy/pseuds/WondrousWendy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zath/pseuds/Zath
Summary: At the Tavern of the Mists in Pandaria, Wrathion adds a new dimension to his Jihui match with Anduin: whoever loses the match has to do whatever the other wants.
Relationships: Wrathion & Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Kudos: 30





	Wrathion's Wager

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Thanks for tuning in. We hope you enjoy the story! Happy Wranduin Week 2020 :D

The hour is late, just past midnight, and Anduin Wrynn knows he should be asleep. If he were back in Stormwind, he would have long been in bed, safely dreaming away; instead, here in Pandaria, there are no guards to remind him of the hour.

Since washing up on the misty shores of the Pandaren continent, Anduin has lived comfortably despite his injuries. For the first time in his young life, he’s exploring a world so different from his home, with people all too kind to show him how to slow down and savor every moment.

Anduin can’t even begin to imagine what his father would say if he caught him in a tavern at this hour. The scolding would be further compounded, too, if his father knew who was sitting across the table from him looking rather pensive: a young black dragon by the name of Wrathion, supposedly the last of his kind.

“I hope you won’t wilt and turn into a pumpkin for staying up past your bedtime, Prince Wrynn.” Wrathion chuckles and moves one of his pieces to a rather unexpected location. “I read a story like that during my time at Ravenholdt Keep. What a silly thing.”

Wrathion only calls him by his royal title and surname when he wants to tease and get on Anduin’s nerves. Makes sense when Wrathion himself hasn’t won many games of Jihui. With a cocky grin, Wrathion posed a wager during their latest game with the intention of raising the stakes for Anduin: whoever wins gets to have the other do something for them.

“I do appreciate that you’re starting to live a bit more... dangerously. Sometimes you have to bend the rules if you want to have fun.”

“I _have_ had fun before.”

“Listening to royal gossip or learning how to wear a dinner napkin properly isn’t what I would consider fun.”

“And what would you consider fun?”

“We’ll get to that after our game.”

“Assuming you win, of course.”

“Feeling competitive now that I’ve added stakes to our little equation?”

Anduin smiles pleasantly. “There’s no need to feel competitive when I know I’ll win.” He takes his turn and then folds his hands across the table. “I admit, Wrathion, you should perhaps consider another game. I’m not sure if Jihui is the game you should be betting on.”

Wrathion makes a ‘tsk’ noise. “Gloating already, and you haven’t even properly won. That’s not very humble of you, my dear prince, I’m afraid.”

Anduin shivers. He will never admit it aloud, for Wrathion’s pride is already too big to contain, but he rather enjoys the little pet names Wrathion has given him. If he has his way and he wins their match, Anduin intends to coax more than just pet names out of Wrathion. He’ll invite Wrathion to the hot springs and maybe his dragon will do more than just verbally tease him; perhaps he’ll put his smart mouth to work with more than just kisses here and there (he has overheard the delinquents of Stormwind bragging about the things you can do with your girlfriends and boyfriends when your parents aren’t around). Maybe even deep down he wants something similar to what he caught Auntie Jaina and Kalecgos doing when they thought they were alone in the corridor of the keep. 

Moments later, Anduin shakes his head, clearing his mind of his fantasies. He catches Wrathion staring at him expectantly. Anduin shrugs and draws his finger around the rim of his now emptied teacup. 

“You said it yourself you’ve read an array of human fairy tales. Some princes are rather proud.”

“To a fault, I should remind you.”

“Then hopefully I’ve learned enough lessons from those cautionary tales.”

Wrathion toys with one of his pieces, rocking it back and forth on the tabletop idly. He glances up at Anduin through his dark lashes and smirks.

“Yet it seems as though you’ve failed to take heed to the warning about dragons.” Wrathion lets out a puff of smoke dramatically. “Some human stories say that dragons lock princes in castles.”

“Is that what you intend to do?”

“Someday, perhaps, though I wouldn’t keep you locked away in a tower. Some dragons do enjoy hoarding their treasures, but I would much rather prefer to take you on my back, and we would go on an adventure.”

Anduin can’t help but feel touched by the proposition. Wrathion could one day take him anywhere. What fantastic places they could go to, what foods they could sample, what strange things could they find across Azeroth? Anduin could see the world, let alone see his entire kingdom perhaps. All with Wrathion at his side.

“I would like that.”

Wrathion meets Anduin’s gaze, and this time when he smiles, it’s genuine, sincere. “Then one day we’ll do that, I promise you.”

“But for now, we need to make a decision here Wrathion.” Anduin gestures to the board. “Are we playing for peace or do you think you can best me at conquest?”

“It appears I’m trying for peace, am I not?”

“We shall see.”

This is how it goes over the course of the next hour. Back and forth turns, some requiring more time and thought than others. Jihui is a game that reflects Pandaren ideals—the two players are supposed to make an accord, to come together with peace as the penultimate win condition, but this isn’t how Wrathion has played over the last few weeks. Previously, he sought conquest, outright victory for his pieces. So Anduin has had to not only learn the game itself, he has had to adjust to a different way of thinking in the time since they first began playing a few weeks ago, shortly after Anduin arrived at the Tavern of the Mists.

Wrathion is nothing like the other teenagers he’s spent time with in Stormwind—all children of nobles—who for the most part behave within certain etiquette frameworks. Sure, Anduin has heard of delinquents, but his father doesn’t let him mingle with those particular people. If Anduin’s going to be frank, the majority of his peers back in Stormwind are quite boring, with interactions already so scripted and preplanned that he had little to look forward to during any encounters with them. Tess Greymane, of course, being the exception, though she’s a tad older than him.

Further yet, Anduin had never considered courtship with any of the other nobles his age. There have been marriage offers, and though he’s just turned eighteen, his father has been kind enough to let Anduin decline each and every one of them.

_Your mother and I wanted you to marry for love, not for money or power or even peace. You choose when the time comes._

Anduin isn’t sure if that courtesy will be extended when his father learns he doesn’t quite find women attractive. It’s one thing to marry a woman for love, it’s another to wish to marry another man. Worse yet, the young man Anduin is smitten by is a black dragon—the heir to the dragonflight of Deathwing, Onyxia, Nefarian, and countless others corrupted by the Old Gods.

Anduin doesn’t know what his father will think when he finds out. Certainly it’s only a matter of time. After all, his father sent out SI:7 agents to scour the Jade Forest to look for him. He may be living at the Tavern of the Mists without an immediate guard presence, but Anduin knows better. He knows his father asked Shaw to assign security for him. The whole point of secret security is that it remains a secret, even to him.

“You’re thinking too much.”

Anduin looks away from the board and snorts.

“Well, the stakes of our game are rather high, aren’t they? You said you would do anything if I win.”

“Yes, and while I meant that, I didn’t think you would take turns quite as long as this.” Wrathion leans his head into his palm as he watches Anduin closely, mischief brimming in his red eyes. “Unless you’re doing this on purpose because you want to spend more time with me.”

Anduin can’t help but blush. He coughs politely in a vain attempt to hide the color on his pale cheeks. He finishes his turn and then points to the board.

“Your move.”

“Yes, yes. I figured you would move your piece like that. My turn is quite simple.”

Wrathion is so clever and funny and brilliant but he’s also so proud and brash! Anduin can’t help but feel for the poor soldiers of the Alliance and Horde who arrive at the tavern seeking respite or business; he has a tendency to be a bit coarse and dismissive. For someone so young, Wrathion is political, and he’s so immersed in Azeroth’s affairs that Anduin finds himself debating ethics, tactics, and everyday issues that he’s learned about from his father and his advisors. Their conversations are lively, lasting long into the evening sometimes over tea, and even if they don’t always agree, Anduin finds himself so wired and energized that when he does eventually head to bed, he stays up further analyzing every exchanged word.

For years, Anduin believed that all dragons born under Deathwing’s aspect were conniving and out to serve only themselves. After all, his family and his kingdom had essentially been torn apart by the machinations of Katrana Prestor (Onyxia) and her brother Victor (Nefarian). Yet, years later, Wrathion claims to be the last of his dragonflight, even admitting one sad evening that he slew all of his remaining corrupted brothers and sisters to end their suffering.

Wrathion is so young and reckless and in some ways so different from Anduin, and yet, he carries a similar burden upon his shoulders—the weight of an entire legacy, for better and for worse.

Legacy is something Anduin understands all too well. People expect him to become a great warrior like his father Varian. On top of that, Anduin was named after Anduin Lothar, a hero of the Alliance his father greatly respected while growing up. He has tried, truly, to learn how to wield a sword and shield but much of his training has been in vain. He simply doesn’t have the heart for fighting. After all, must a king always choose war? Wasn’t a leader supposed to be more than just a weapon for the kingdom? Wasn’t he supposed to be wise and well-learned? Kind but stern? Weighing matters of the kingdom with diligence and care? War was not always the correct path; sometimes diplomacy would serve two kingdoms better. Anduin doesn’t want to become a warrior-king. He loves and admires his father, but he knows King Wrynn is disappointed. Worried for the future. A future king who wants compassion and healing can be taken advantage of; Anduin knows this well.

So too has Wrathion received the same judgment. Anduin has noticed the looks some of the soldiers outright give the Black Prince: distrust, scorn, prejudice. Wrathion still gives them their coin and the information they seek despite their rude behavior. The soldiers go about their way without being eaten by an angry dragon prince (forget that Wrathion is only a mere whelp in terms of dragon age—whelps can still gnaw, claw, and breathe fire, after all!).

Anduin smiles. This time, Anduin believes they are both playing with the intention of achieving peace. Wrathion hasn’t overextended himself, and neither has Anduin. Perhaps they’ll figure out a means to secure a mutual victory. Though, he isn’t quite sure what that will mean for their wager.

Except, with Wrathion’s next turn, everything changes. The warning his father has given him about being taken advantage of? Perhaps he should have heeded it.

Cleverly, Wrathion has laid a trap for Anduin, and peace is no longer on the table.

“I can’t believe you,” Anduin groans, shaking his head. “We could have both won!”

“Yes, we could have, but sometimes you must remember, for one day you will be a king yourself, that not all gestures of peace are done with good intentions.”

“This is a board game!”

Wrathion smiles toothily. “And the stakes are quite real, my friend.”

Wrathion created a false sense of security, and then, with only a single move, he exploited a weakness in Anduin’s front line. Within only a few mere minutes, the game ends in fireworks as Wrathion pursues his conquest victory and Anduin scrambles to not lose by a landslide.

Afterward, Wrathion volunteers to pack up the pieces. As Anduin glares at him, he ruminates over which turn was the tipping point. Perhaps he’s becoming too much of an open book if Wrathion’s able to feign ignorance for this long while Anduin played into his hands.

Of course, it doesn’t help that Wrathion looks especially handsome tonight. He wears his dark hair in a short tail, freed from his ornate turban, and the lavish gold and crimson tunic he wears has a rather tantalizing ‘v’ that runs obscenely down his torso towards his navel. He’s a dragon, and as he has learned from Aunt Jaina, dragons magically design their mortal form to look however they please (often in ways that happen to be incredibly attractive to their mortal lovers). Wrathion has somehow only made himself more and more tantalizing over the weeks they’ve known each other. In some ways, it isn’t fair. He’s just a human, plain, lanky, and flawed; yet, Wrathion seems to find him attractive all the same.

“Well, if you’re done feeling sore about losing, you’ll be happy to hear I’m immediately cashing in on our wager.”

Anduin sighs. “Of course you are.”

Wrathion stands from the table and moves to lean against its side. He folds his arms across his chest loosely, his gaze raking over Anduin less than innocently.

“While I did say you would have to do whatever I wanted, do know that you have a choice, always.” Wrathion offers his hand. “Consider this gesture as the fork in the road, with two destinies laid out before you. If you take my hand, Anduin Wrynn, I promise you won’t regret it.”

Anduin raises a brow, his curiosity piqued. “So you intend to be vague, hm? How typical of you.”

Wrathion laughs and shrugs playfully. “The question remains, my dear prince: do you trust me?”

Anduin figures Wrathion wanted to see his wager come to fruition so badly he was willing to do whatever it took to win. Maybe it isn’t so terrible to lose if Wrathion will look at him this way, so hungry and eager. Anduin isn’t totally naive, he can guess what Wrathion wants. The question is, does he want it too?

The answer is so simple, plain as day.

“Yes, I do.”

Anduin takes Wrathion’s hand, and Wrathion helps him up onto his feet. Anduin leans into him, letting himself be swept off of his feet by Wrathion. They stare into one another’s eyes, and then Wrathion bends down (of course Wrathion has adjusted his height to be just a tad taller) to press a soft kiss to his lips.

They’re both nervous. Even though Wrathion professes to be smarter beyond his age, he’s still rather inexperienced when it comes to relationships. Wrathion is tentative at first, but as Anduin presses into him, digging his fingers into Wrathion’s tunic, all hesitation evaporates between them.

With his heart fluttering like hummingbird wings in his chest, their kiss ends, and Wrathion tugs on their joined hands. Anduin follows after Wrathion’s lead, and he knows immediately where they are heading—to the rooms upstairs. 

With a silent prayer to the Light, Anduin hopes this night with Wrathion never ends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment! For updates on future works, you can check out my twitter @W0ndrousWendy and [ RangerZath!](https://twitter.com/rangerzath)


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